Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne

VI. Me

Free will and desire: to live, like seagulls, forever… people don’t see! The whirlpool pulls, I must adapt, yet my downfall is a given law. (Will I manage later to die like a Samurai?) One morn in the dust of a run-down cement plant I found poetry; there above the sky little hills sang - every flower became my sweet prison, and I grasped Humanity no more. A new feeling-world circulated in me: and like a sword-blade, proud-grey, there shines a wine-brown verse on deliquescent walls.

I craved light – I went between the clouds, but I was not led by brain, nor by Man; rather it is passion which follows me down.


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